“The Sprouting” / Memorable Fancies #566

[“That corpse you planted last year in your garden, / Has it begun to sprout?” – Eliot, The Waste Land]

That was Philip. Yes, as soon as the last frost was gone I caught the ground heaving one day, just a little, and a tiny finger poking out, the nail still soft and pliable. A week later a few more parts of Philip sprouted, and the fingers had grown almost to full size.

I probed the ground gently with a thin pole, and yes, Philip was growing healthily, the flesh firming up, the gaping wounds closing. Any day now, the sprouts would be worth eating.

I was glad that Philip had been safely beneath the soil all this time, especially that day the police came around with their stupid questions.

Malice-cover lightened

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